Language Barrier
by Authenti
Summary: A touch upon what the BLU Spy's first days at Dustbowl could have been like. It's unlike a Spy to come unprepared, but language takes a while to pick up... /Spy-centric, rated for safety. Minor plotholes to be filled in later chapters./


"Arrêtez! _Arrêtez!_"

"Put 'im down, Soldier. 'E's on our side."

The self-proclaimed war veteran grunted an angry response and slowly lowered the lanky man to the floor, loosening his grip on the clean white shirt collar.

"Shouldn't have tried to get the jump on me…" he muttered. "Popping out of the train like that. He oughtta be locked up."

"Merci… Je suis l'Espion… Le… 'Spy', oui? Comprennez-vous?" Although he looked calm and suave on the outside, Spy was having kittens. He could see that his new teammates were not entirely happy to see him, and due to the language barrier, he doubted he'd find out why any time soon.

"Yeh, we 'comprennay'. Sit down." The Australian accent was gravelly but somewhat amused. Spy shook his head. He would prefer to remain standing, and a pointed look at the jumpy-looking Pyro-technician (who was standing nearby with his fingers twitching on his flamethrower's trigger) was enough to tell anyone why.

"Vous êtes… BLU, oui?" He steeled himself for the next part. He knew the name, but saying it in _their confounded language _was going to kill him. "Builder's… League… United."

A smirk appeared on the lower, visible half of the Soldier's face, his eyes concealed by a helmet. "Yeah, pretty boy, we're from Builderzz League-ew Ooneeted."

The Engineer pinched the ridge of his nose and resisted the urge to elbow his aggressive companion right in the ribs. Doing so would only get him another lecture, accented by a thousand decibels.

"C'mon, Solly, don't tease the man. Spies aren't exactly friendly people."

"Are you saying I couldn't handle this sissy if he turned rogue?"

"I was jus' sayin'-"

"A-hum." The Spy cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. "J'irai à ma pièce. _Si_ j'ai un pièce." His tone was a combination of disgust and the feeling that he wasn't remotely impressed with the troop of people he'd been greeted with. "Où sont les caserns?"

The team gave him blank looks. Wonderful. He would have to try English. _Again._

"Mon _room, _mes collègues." _Why can't you just learn my language instead, you incompetent-_

"Ah, it's down this way. C'mon, Spah. It ain't much, but it's not like we get any better than you do." The stocky man wearing the yellow hardhat motioned towards a corridor that led away from the train tracks.

The Soldier grunted again and headed off a different way, apparently deciding that his job as part of the welcoming committee was done for the moment. The Pyro gave an awkward kind of hopping skip to catch up with the Engineer and their new team member. Spy forced himself not to instinctively flinch away as the idiot pyromaniac flailed the tip of his flamethrower dangerously close to his suit.

"So… Where're ya from, anyway?"

Spy took a moment to translate this in his head, then formulated a reply. "C'est interdit. Not allowed. Do you understand?"

The Engineer chuckled heartily and bopped him on the shoulder with a loose fist. "Ah thought y'might say that. Worth askin', though." He removed his hat and ran his one gloveless hand over his head, sighing. "Look, uh, there's a man here y'might want ta avoid."

"…Quoi?"

"Stay away from. Avoid. Y'gettin' this?" The Engineer looked sheepish. "It's just, he really don't like Spahs at th' best o' times. An' we're kinda hard-pressed at th' minute, so tensions're runnin' kinda high… You gettin' any o' this?"

The Spy sighed and shook his head. "Je ne comprends pas. Est-ce que n'importe qui d'autre parle français?" The Engineer frowned and tried to remember what little French he'd picked up from the foreign exchange students back at university. "Zhe ozzers. Do zhey parle- do zhey speak French?"

"Nah… Th' Medic's European, though. Might want ta try him." The corridor opened out into a dusty, hot wasteland, an area up ahead fenced off by chain-link and high plateaus of rock. The Spy suppressed a groan. That much dust would just _ruin _his suit. "See that, there? We're headin' that way. It's called Dustbowl. Y'hear?"

"Je ne suis pas un enfant, Ingénieur. Not a child. Do not _ask _after everyzhing." He brushed what he thought was sand off his right shoulder and frowned off into the distance. He was sure he could see a sandstorm approaching. "Oui. Dustbowl. Désert terrible complètement du sable, oui, je comprends." _I hate it already, _he added mentally. But he was not here to complain. Doing so would win him no points towards his reputation, and a Spy's reputation was foremost.

"Spah, if'n yeh don't like it, well, it's just tough for yeh. BLU don't like people who go back on their word. There's no gettin' outta it now, an' ye knew what you were signin' up fer." The Engineer seemed to be finally showing a bit of backbone, frowning at him from behind shaded goggles and waving a wrench in his general direction. "So giddy up an' give it y' best shot."

"Vvrrf vrr ffprr'rrt!" the Pyro added cheerfully, brandishing his flamethrower. It was the first time Spy had heard the man (?) say anything since he arrived, but it wasn't exactly the sort of thing he'd been waiting to hear. To be honest, Spy would prefer it if the man could just leave for the time being, let him have some space without worrying about his suit spontaneously combusting…

The two BLUs led their new recruit down into a network of tunnels, hollowed out to make room for tracks and mine carts. The Spy was feeling even more apprehensive with every step he took. Was it all filthy mine shafts?

The Engineer turned away from the main tunnels and followed a slightly narrower one. Lights began to appear more frequently, and all of a sudden they happened upon a door placed into the rock. There were more, spaced evenly apart and leading down the corridor, and the walls and floor here were more cleanly hewn.

"Used ta be where th' mine workers hid out when th'place was still active. We use 'em now."

The Spy considered this. "C'est sauf? It is safe?"

"Yeah, well, Solly's bin blastin' away at it with his rocket launcher all summer, we ain't had a cave-in yet." The Engineer counted three doors down and then handed Spy a key after politely tipping his hat. "Welcome t'the BLU team, Spah."

"Hrrdh!"

Spy fixed them both with a steely look, then snatched the keys, unlocked the door, slipped inside and was gone.

Engineer scowled after him. "Who stuck th' burr under _his _saddle?"

It was a while before anyone thought to check up on him. As it happened, the Medic was the first to consider knocking on his door.

"Are you avake, Herr Spy?"

"Oui, une minute." He wrenched himself out of his trancelike, daydreaming state and hurriedly yanked the blue mask back over his head. If anyone saw him without it, his career would be over before it even began. "Qu'est que c'est?" He unlocked and opened the door a crack, forcing himself not to blink against the light that flooded in.

"Come. Ein dark room is no place for medical exam." A boot wedged itself into the door to stop him from shutting it, and the other kicked it wide open with an impressive amount of force. Spy felt a rubber glove on his sleeve, and was forcefully extracted from his room. "Lock it."

"Oui, oui, a moment, please!" He fumbled with the key and slammed the door shut, twisting the key to lock it tightly and then feeling himself yanked away down the corridor. "Arrêtez! Release me, _idiot!_"

"Nein," came the firm reply. "Zhe ozzahs vere not compliant, and I am loath to take zhe risk of having to sedate anuzzah one." For the first time, the Medic looked directly at him – if only to flash him a threatening grin and brandish a syringe full of clear liquid – and he took in every detail of the man's face in that instant.

Spy understood he was going to learn to hate this man.

The BLU Medic carted him off to what was apparently the medical bay, thankfully free of the characteristic sand and dust that coated every other room in the vicinity. He was slammed painfully against the edge of what felt like an examination table, knees buckling and forcing him to seat himself on it despite how little he approved of the idea.

Spy forced his brain to work faster, to come up with an excuse. He found none – at least, none in English. The Medic locked the door behind them and hung the key on a hook. "Zhere is no need for zhis, Docteur."

"Relax, mein colleague. It vill take in excess of zhree minutes. You may keep your mask."

The Spy let out a silent sigh of relief at the latter statement. The Medic studied him closely for a moment, hand supporting elbow supporting cheek. Then he turned to a set of scales and gestured to these.

"On."

Spy found himself obeying almost mechanically, perhaps out of fear of the formidable selection of syringes and gleaming array of scalpels that were laid out neatly on a desk nearby.

True to his word, the Medic managed to give him an (albeit rushed) examination in just over three minutes. Immediately the man attempted to usher him out, but the Spy turned back and tried to formulate words that would convey what he needed from this man.

"Sir – Docteur – one minute, if you please-"

"Nein! I have ozzah patients to examine! Leave! Raus!"

"Docteur! I require your assistance!"

The Medic stopped trying to convince him to leave the medical bay and sighed exasperatedly, standing back and tapping his foot. "Hurry, zhen. Vhat do you vant?"

"L' Ingénieur – 'e suggested you may speak a little French. I need you to 'elp me to learn English-"

"Later, later! I have ozzah patients!" The Medic grabbed a blue marker pen and thrust it into the Spy's gloved hand, pointing wildly in the general direction of what looked to be a day planner mounted on the wall. "Mark down a time, be gone before I return vith zhe Sniper. I must get zhis done before –"

"Mission starts in ten minutes," came a familiar voice from an assortment of radio equipment in the corner. "Mission starts in _ten minutes._ Be ready."

"_Scheiss!_" The Medic shoved roughly past the Spy and he heard the heavy booted footsteps receding down the corridor at a pace that was almost a run. "Time-vasting _dummkopfs, _all of you!"

The Spy cleared his throat, thinking better of taking out a cigarette despite how much he felt he needed one. If that man caught him smoking in here, he was certain he'd pay in blood. He tentatively approached the schedule on the wall and began to hurriedly mark the letter 'E' at times he decided would probably be convenient.

Learning English from this irritable man was probably going to kill him, but with such a huge language barrier between him and his co-workers, he had to start somewhere.

"Valk_ faster, _you _stupid _man!"

The Spy ducked out of the door, leaving the pen to roll slowly off the table. He wasn't going to stick around to annoy the Medic any more than he already had. That just wouldn't be wise…


End file.
